


prettiest, sweet death

by zupka_z_radomia



Series: too precious to leave, too sweet to eat [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bacground Kali/Jennifer Blake, Extremely Underage, Father-Husband Deucalion, Fluff, Gross Intimacy, Guardian-Ward Relationship, M/M, Shota
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-15 00:28:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11794650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zupka_z_radomia/pseuds/zupka_z_radomia
Summary: It starts innocently enough, if you deign to look at it that way, with Stiles stealing Deucalion’s shirts and wearing them to sleep.--Or the one where Stiles likes dresses.





	prettiest, sweet death

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Malapropian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malapropian/gifts).



> this got away from me

It starts innocently enough, if you deign to look at it that way, with Stiles stealing Deucalion’s shirts and wearing them to sleep. 

 

“They’re comfy and big… and smell like you,” Stiles confessed when Deucalion asked about it, the last part mumbled into the collar of Deucalion’s old and well-worn black tee.

 

There’s no harm in letting the boy continue sleeping in Deucalion’s clothes, quite the opposite. It’s the sweetest of torture to be greeted by the smell of him, so obviously marked as Deuc’s. It’s even sweeter to see him padding into the kitchen half-asleep, the shirt looking more like a loose dress on him, revealing one pale shoulder that Deucalion never fails to nuzzle.

 

After months of this, Deucalion finds Stiles one day changing from the shirt he was sleeping in, into another one of Deucalion’s readying up for the day. The shirt covered his thighs, hiding the fact he only wore his Batman briefs underneath, and left long expanses of skin uncovered and tempting.

 

Stiles looks a little nervous when he sees Deucalion watching him, as if caught doing something he shouldn’t have. Deucalion offers him a small smile and crouches right next to him, skimming his hands down Stiles’ sides and lower, over the backs of Stiles’ pale legs.

 

“Won’t you be cold, darling?” is all he asks because there’s nothing wrong in wanting to wear more of Deucalion’s clothes, or simply wanting to wear something less constricting than pants. “I wouldn’t want you to catch another cold.”

 

Stiles pouts at him so sweetly that Deucalion gathers him closer for a hug and presses wet kisses on his cheek. He lifts him up easily and plops him down on Stiles’ bed, then opens one of Stiles’ drawers and looks for the knee-high Batman socks Stiles got from Ennis last Christmas.

 

He offers them up for Stiles’ inspection, but doesn’t hand them over when Stiles holds out a hand.

 

“I know you’re big enough to dress yourself, darling, but indulge me?” 

 

“Okay,” Stiles agrees easily enough and lets Deucalion pull the socks up his legs one at a time. Deucalion kisses both his knobby knees in thanks.

 

It doesn’t escalate from there until another few months pass. This time it’s Kali who brings it to his attention making sure they’re alone, Stiles and the boys out shopping with Ennis.

 

“Stiles seems to really enjoy wearing dresses,” she says, right to the point.

 

“You mean my shirts.”

 

“It’s not just your shirts. He played dress up with Jennifer yesterday, while she was getting ready for our date, and was absolutely taken with her dresses. The shortest ones actually fit him after Jennifer rolled the hem a bit and added a slim belt.” Kali gives him a moment to take in her words, then continues on, “Maybe it’s time you took him shopping for more than a few graphic tees?”

 

She ends with that, leaving Deucalion to ponder her suggestion and wonder if there’s something he missed.

 

He picks to talk with Stiles in the evening, right after bath time and shortly after he helped Stiles into what’s formerly been known as Deucalion’s t-shirt. Stiles isn’t sleepy yet, waiting eagerly for Deuc to read him a bedtime story and cuddle him to sleep, but he’s the most honest when the light is dim and he’s had a whole day to spend his energy, and Deucalion will use that against him, this time.

 

“Sweetheart,” he says, easing on the bed next to Stiles and lifting his arm up to let the boy burow against his side, “can I ask you something?”

 

“Is it something bad?” Stiles asks, his eyes huge as he stares up at Deucalion.

 

“Not bad at all, love, but still importants and I want you to answer honestly, alright? It’s alright if you’re not sure what the answer is, too. Okay?”

 

“Okay,” Stiles agrees.

 

Deucalion smiles and rewards him with a kiss to the crown of his head.

 

“I want to clarify that I’m asking because I want you to be happy and comfortable, and am in no way upset about this, so darling, can you tell me why you enjoy wearing dresses?”

 

“Jennifer told you?” Stiles immediately tenses, but Deucalion just rubs a comforting hand over his arm.

 

“Kali did, but only because we all want to make sure you’re the happiest pup in the world.” He presses another kiss into Stiles’ hair, “So can you tell me, please?”

 

Stiles remains silent for a few minutes, his little fingers twisting the material of his sleep shirt as he thinks.

 

“They’re comfortable,” he finally says, but they both know it’s not only that, so Deucalion waits, “And… they make me feel p-pretty.”

 

He stumbles over the last word, glancing at Deucalion as he says it to judge his reaction. He looks so small like this, worried about what Deucalion might think of him wanting to feel nice. And that just won’t do.

 

Deucalion lifts him and helps him sit in his lap so that they’re facing each other, and he has to cup Stiles’ face in his so the boy will actually look at him.

 

“Stiles, my darling heart, listen to me, please. You’ve done nothing wrong. There’s absolutely nothing wrong in wanting to feel pretty. If wearing dresses or my shirts as dresses is something that helps you feel that way we’ll go shopping tomorrow or ask Kali and Jennifer for help and get you all the nice things you want. All you need is ask, love.”

 

He smells the salt even before he sees Stiles’ eyes watering and he pulls him in for a hug, lets him clutch at his shirt tightly as he sniffles against Deucalion’s shoulder.

 

“To me you’re devastatingly pretty even in your Spider-man pajamas, you know, or when you’ve been playing with face paints with Ennis,” Deucalion tells him to make Stiles giggle wetly,  “but if dresses are what makes you feel best that’s okay. But I’ll have to ask you one more question, okay? One more and then I’ll read you a story and we can go sleep.”

 

He waits for Stiles to loosen his hold on Deucalion and nod and only then pulls Stiles away slightly to lock eyes with him. He cups his face again and wipes the last of the tears away with his thumbs.

 

“Is this all just because you want to be pretty, or because you’re not quite my sweet little boy? Remember, we talked about this before, about how there are so many genders to be and how that changes for everyone?”

 

Stiles wipes at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and sniffs a few times before he shakes his head. “Just like being pretty sometimes,” he mumbles.

 

“Okay. Okay, darling,” Deucalion leans in to press a sweet kiss to’ pouting mouth, “thank you for answering my questions.”

 

He maneuvers them until they’re lying down, Stiles half draped over his chest, rubbing his face clean against Deucalion’s shirt. Deucalion reaches for the book waiting for them on the night stand and starts reading, all the while rubbing gentle circles against Stiles’ back.

 

He doesn’t even get three pages in before Stiles is falling asleep, exhausted from the stress and crying. Deucalion puts the book away and turns the light off, settles the covers more comfortably over Stiles’ shoulders.

 

“You really think ‘m pretty?” Stiles asks, words hardly recognizable half mashed into Deucalion’s chest.

 

“Of course I do, darling, every minute of every day.”

 

He’s honest, too, and he repeats those words the next day when they’re out shopping and then laters, with Stiles draped over his lap, his pale blue dress barely covering his rump.

 

He’s Deucalion’s own pretty, sweet death.

  
  



End file.
